


Feels Like A Home For The Holidays

by afteriwake



Series: In So Few Words [209]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Annoyed Sherlock Holmes, Blushing Mycroft Holmes, Calm Mycroft Holmes, Childhood Ornaments, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Tree, Conversations, Domestic Fluff, Embarrassed Sherlock Holmes, Established Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Established Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Family Fluff, Holmes Brothers, Holmes Brothers' Childhood, Mentioned Eurus Holmes, POV Sherlock Holmes, Past Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Secret Relationship, Secrets Come Out, defining relationships, in the kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft have a conversation in the kitchen during a future Christmas with their mum and dad.





	Feels Like A Home For The Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a headcanon at **sherlockrarepairs** (" _Mummy Holmes kept all the decorations that Sherlock and Mycroft made as children. There are tiny handprints in clay, and pipe cleaner reindeer, and candy canes made of beads. The boys want to think it’s ridiculous… but it wouldn’t seem like Christmas without them._ ") as well as an answer to the " _tree_ " prompt for my Holiday Bingo card at the same community.

“Oh, this is _adorable!_ ”

“Did you see this one? It’s Sherlock’s handprint.”

“Oh, he had such tiny hands.”

“Looks like he’s had long fingers since he was a baby.” There was a bit of a rustle and then more conversation from around the tree. “Oh, look at this Santa that Mycroft made.”

“I wonder if he was still believing in Santa when he made it or if he was forced to make it against his wishes.”

“I wonder if he ever believed in Santa at all, frankly.”

“Oh, he did, at least while Eurus and Sherlock were babies,” their mum piped in, much to the Holmes brother’s chagrin. “Let me show you pictures of the boys on Santa’s lap during a Christmas trip to the States.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he kept peeling the potatoes his mum had set before him, telling him to “keep himself busy” while she got to know his...paramour? Girlfriend? He had never been quite sure how to classify Irene, and even now that they were _something_ it was even harder. “I hate those pictures.”

“I do too, brother mine,” Mycroft said with a sigh. Anthea was with them, cooing over the old ornaments their mother had kept over the years from when their childhood had been good, well before The Incident. “But it’s not often we bring company to Christmas dinner that is not John, Rosie, and Molly.”

“You think mum is upset that Molly and I…?” Sherlock asked, not wanting to risk a glance to the sitting room to see how his _significant other_ was faring with his mum, though he was awfully curious.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, and if Sherlock hadn’t been paying attention to his brother instead of the potatoes he never would have caught the blush on Mycroft’s cheeks.

“You’re the mystery date!” Sherlock said, slamming the peelers down on the worktop. “I should have known.”

“You seem upset,” Mycroft said quietly.

“Oh, that you and Molly are shagging? No, that doesn’t bother me. You’ve thawed, you’ll treat her well, and she can kill you without being caught even by me if you hurt her,” Sherlock said. He picked the peeler back up and pointed it at his brother. “No, I’m upset I was blind to it and didn’t figure it out earlier. I’m slipping.”

“Domesticity has the habit of doing that, I’m told,” Mycroft said.

“Do you think it will do it to you?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head.

“Inevitably, but I believe if I settle with Molly it will be worth it.” There was a cheer from the women at the tree and soon Molly’s voice was heard among them. Mycroft smiled slightly, listening to the happiness spilling in from the other room, and Sherlock smiled as well. 

“We’ll have to divide the ornaments when we have children of our own, you know,” Sherlock said.

“Over Mummy’s dead body,” Mycroft said with a slight snort. “She won’t let them go until she’s taking her last breath.” Mycroft paused. “But we’ll have chances to have our own. Mummy’s home seems to need the remnants of our childhood Christmases here. It wouldn’t seem like Christmas if they weren’t on the tree and all around.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Sherlock said. 

“It does make this place home, though,” Mycroft conceded.

The brothers looked at each other as their mum called them in to join the others. _Yes,_ Sherlock thought to himself as he wiped his hands and then turned to head towards the tree. _It does make this home._


End file.
